Father's Day: What Should Have Been
by ryely.sowhat
Summary: L/C...I watched Father's Day and thought there could be a whole L/C story in between...so I decided to write it...I don't own the story or the characters...and I'm terrible at keeping tense - you've been warned :
1. Chapter 1

I don't own any of the characters or the story line...or anything at all really! Major Spoilers for 1.11 Father's Day...

We had finished dinner at the diner. Now that she was single again Jill had plans with a random hottie and Claire had gone home to her family which left you and I alone. To say that we had grown close over the past 4 months would be an understatement. I still was unsure how to define our relationship, but I was too afraid to ask in case you stopped coming around. I was sure that one day the discussion would be had and perhaps then you would tell me how you really felt.

It all started after the Glenn Whitney murder. We had spent the day together, chasing down leads and all and I guess you got to see my more supportive, not-so-annoying/intrusive side. We started talking about things other than work. You seemed to smile more when I was around. You found excuses to be in my personal space and I enjoyed every second of it. Each day it seemed to progress into a more intimate relationship without specific intentions to be that way…but neither of us stopped it either.

I guess that's why I found myself pressed up against my door with your lips leaving a trail of kisses down my neck and your hands trying to find their way under my shirt. You're standing with your right leg in between mine and I can feel your gun holster digging into my side as your push your body against me. Cheesy as it may be, I love that you are a cop - a turn on if there ever was one.

I lose my fingers in your soft, dark hair and push my lips onto yours. I can hardly breathe. I push your jacket off your shoulders and you pull your arms free. You pull my sweater over my head and undo my shirt buttons taking a moment to gaze across my chest which is rising and falling rather rapidly with each breath. I am thankful that I had chosen a slightly sexier bra than normal today. You resume planting kisses on my neck and work your way down, tracing my bra line and burying your lips in between my breasts. I hold back a moan, a scream, and a few expletives which seem to be the only words forming in my mind.

I manage to regain enough control to pull your shirt off in between kisses. I trace the lines of the rather large tattoo you have wrapped around your torso. It was a surprise to me the first time this happened, but now it is the only thing I see each time I close my eyes. Your hands find mine and we make our way over to the couch. I lay down and pull you on top of me, our mouths once again attach themselves to each other. You roll over onto your side and prop yourself up on your elbow. Gently, your fingers dance across my stomach and your lips place little circles of kisses on my breast.

"Cindy Thomas," you whispered, "you are…"

It is at this precise moment that the worse possible sound echoes through my lounge room - your cell phone ringing. The infuriating noise jolts my eyes open and tears me from what was fast turning into one of the top 5 moments of my life.

You sigh heavily, and draw the pesky little thing from your back pocket.

"Boxer?"

I want to throttle the person on the other end.

"Yeah…I'm on my way."

You flip the phone shut and return it to your pocket. You pause before you realize you don't need to explain the situation to me. I know you have to go.

"I'm really sorry."

"Yeah…it's fine." I say with a forced smile. Clearly I am lying.

You kiss me again quickly and lift yourself from the couch. Retrieving your shirt and jacket from the floor, you run your fingers through your hair. The transformation from sexy lover to on-duty cop is complete.

"I'll…call you later."

"Sure."

"Bye."

"Wait! What am I?" I asked. Interested in your answer.

You smile and drop your head a little before looking me over once again.

"You're incredible."

You give me a wink, grab your keys and head out the door.

The apartment is quiet but my mind is still racing. My body is aching now that your touch is gone. I get up and head towards the kitchen and switch on my police scanner.

"_We have gun shots and a man down. Request for back up__ immediately."_

I splash some water on my face and take a deep breath before re-dressing and heading out the door.

I pull my car over in a side alley and head towards the flashing lights. There are ambulances and squad cars all over the place and at least a dozen officers strewn around the crime scene. There is also a newbie guarding the scene and he doesn't seem thrilled that I'm pestering him for access. I fish around in my bag from my press card.

"Cindy Thomas, San Francisco Register. I'm a friend of Inspector…Lindsay!" I catch sight of you amongst the chaos and you jog over to where I am being held.

"She's alright Officer."

You lift up the tape for me to duck under.

"Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you were reading _Deeper in Love_." Your voice is deep and the sarcasm rolls off your tongue.

"I thought you were watching _Atonement_."

You smile, which kind of makes my knees weak, and move a little closer.

"So I hear it was a drive by turn shoot out. Any ideas?"

"Crazy wild hunch - drug dealers."

Suddenly Jacobi comes rushing over. "Hey! 911 just took a call. A white van with a porthole weaving down Georgia and Fourth dinged a couple of cars. The guy can barely drive he must have been hit."

You're suddenly rushing towards the squad car with him and I try my best to hitch a ride.

"You will not even notice me in the back seat."

You shoot me a death glare to end all death glares and I back off.

"Ok fine. Sheesh!"

It was an unreasonable request but you've gotta try your luck - one day she might let me ride along. I gather what information I can from the scene before heading back home.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning I find myself floating about the precinct. It's early and I am positive that you would have had only a couple hours sleep. I find you at your desk, looking through mug shot photos.

"Morning."

"Hey."

"I come bearing gifts." I hand you the oversized cup. "Extra caramel."

"You are officially my favourite person."

You smile and I almost forget to pretend that I'm here to ask about the shooting instead of getting my morning fix of Lindsay Boxer.

"How's it going?"

"Not great. We don't have much to go on. Two dead and a lone gunman running about town."

"What about the guy in the van?"

"Claire is still working on him. She's gonna be a couple of hours at best."

You get up head towards one of the interview rooms.

"I hear a rumor that you were held at gunpoint." I lower my voice a little.

A look a frustration comes across your face, like you didn't want that detail being public knowledge.

"I wouldn't say 'held'. You make it sound like I was a hostage…It was really no big deal."

"No big deal? Lindsay I don't think…"

"It's the job. It happens. Obviously he didn't shoot me. So it's fine."

"Did he say anything?"

"Ah I think it was 'put your gun down'."

I rolled my eyes and you place some papers into a filing cabinet and shut the draw.

"Can we drop this please? I'm fine. He got away."

It clicked as to why you were so huffy. It wasn't because of the life and death situation. It was simply because you were standing there with the guy and you couldn't collar him. If anyone thought that you were anything less that over-dedicated to your job they would be sadly mistaken.

"Well I'm glad you're ok. I'm gonna head into work."

"Thanks for my coffee."

"You're welcome."

We exchange a smile as I leave. It's difficult not to smother you with concern. I know that you hate it but I can't just ignore the fact that you were in a dangerous situation. I know you are skilled and can handle it but I worry. I care. Maybe too much.


	3. Chapter 3

I meet you and Jill outside the precinct at the coffee cart. You look tired and frustrated and I find myself wishing that you would sleep more but it's not like I have any say in the matter. Lindsay Boxer does what Lindsay Boxer does. I think that was rule number 2.

"Three coffees."

"Who's that?" I ask, motioning towards a tall, tanned man that seems to have caught Jill's attention.

"We don't know but Lindsay likes him." Jill responds somewhat coy.

"Oh." I say, trying not to act insanely jealous that you're checking out random guys on the street.

"Grow up." You tell Jill and I find myself glad you're not agreeing with her…although you aren't disagreeing either.

"Well he likes you. Right now he's doing the classic take-another-look fake phone call. He'll turn this way in 5 seconds." I take the opportunity to check out this guy myself…ok so he's not totally awful looking.

"That's ridiculous." You sneak a look back up to Mr. Mystery. "Ok, not totally ridiculous."

I feel the need to join in on this conversation, so as to not blow my totally cool 'I'm-not-interested-in-Lindsay-at-all' cover with Jill. Or, for that matter, let you catch on to the fact that I'm falling for you. "Go talk to him. And while you're at it forget Tom." Tom? Why did I bring him up?

"Oh God, that's over. Officially, it's over. And I am ready to get back out there…I'm just not a make-the-first-move kind of girl."

I can tell the Tom part you are saying more for your own benefit than ours. As to the other part…I can sense a hint of sarcasm in your voice and it appears you are entertaining the conversation for Jill's sake. I sure hope so. I change the topic for my own sake.

"So Claire said that a white van was blown up using incendiary bullets. Can I use that?"

"Sure."

"Do we have anything on the victim? Name? Age? Anything?"

"Still working on it." You say, busying yourself with coffee condiments.

"Alright. Keep me posted."

I leave…somewhat puzzled by what the conversation that just took place. We haven't had 'the talk' yet and I'm not entirely sure on where we stand. Are we exclusive? Are we dating? Are we just a string of convenient late night hook-ups? It probably would have been a good idea to ask these questions at an earlier point but the fact is that you are not very good at the relationship side of life…and there was no way I was going to risk scaring you away.


	4. Chapter 4

Back at work I shelve the story for the moment considering there is nothing to write about other than two dead unknowns and a truck explosion. Not exactly front page material. I was in the resource room when my editor David and another reporter Scott approached.

"Your sources at homicide said they couldn't ID that victim in the explosion?" David asks quickly…like he already knows the answer.

"That's what they said."

"My sources say the body in the van was an undercover cop," Scott chimes in, somewhat cocky.

"Narcotics flipped out when asked for comment," David adds.

"Uh…I'll…look into it," I stammered. There must be some mistake. Is this new information? What just happened?

Scott reads out the upcoming headline: "'undercover cop shot in the line of duty'. If we wait too long to go with it, the Chronicle will have it first."

David pauses before deciding. "We're going with Scott's story."

They leave the room and I know that Scott is doing imaginary cartwheels back to his desk. He got the scoop. My mind takes a moment to process why you wouldn't tell me who the victim was. I search for a reason, but come up empty. I head back to my desk, grab my things and am arriving at the station before I know what to say.

I head through the hallways and pause when I see you talking with Jacobi. I wait until you're finished so as not to interrupt in a rage. I take a deep breath.

"Lindsay?"

You look over and I know you can read the disappointment on my face. You smile fades and your arms fold defensively across your chest.

I head up the stairwell where Jill and Claire are. I can here you following me from behind and I daren't turn around in case I have some uncontrollable emotional burst. Now that would be embarrassing.

"You all knew the victim was a cop and you didn't tell me."

"When an officer gets killed people get scared." Mother Claire tries to rationally explain the situation.

"We hadn't even notified the wife yet." Another rational excuse…I hate rational.

"Don't you think I would have held the story? But suddenly you don't trust me?" That's the real issue. Trust. I put everything out there and you don't trust me. I make sure and look to the other girls to try and hide the fact that my hurt is focused solely on you.

"Cindy we absolutely trust you." There are many times I hate Jill, and this is definitely one of them.

"What a funny way of showing it!"

There is an awkward silence. You all realize you can't defend your actions without saying that one of you acted in the wrong. No doubt some stupid club rule.

"I thought that we were friends. I thought that we were in this together."

I quickly head off. I'm about 5 steps away when I hear you calling out my name.

"Cindy wait."

It uses every bit of strength I have not to turn around.

"Cindy."

You grabbed my elbow and spin me around. Damn those long legs of yours.

"Listen…I'm sorry."

You realize that the corridor is quite busy and pull me into the empty ladies restroom.

"I did what I thought was best."

"Yeah well I just got absolutely blindsided by my editor. I'm the crime reporter. I'm supposed to know what's going on. Instead I trust you and end up looking like a total fool. And now some idiot in features gets the scoop!"

"Ok…are you mad about losing the story?"

"No! Yes! No. I'm mad because you didn't tell me. I'm mad because we share information…that's what we do. We help each other. However apparently it's not. I'm just here when you need me…at your disposal. Just some kid reporter who clearly isn't wanted. At least I know."

I storm out of the bathroom and out of the station, back to where I belong. I can't believe I just yelled at you. I didn't even give you a chance to explain…not that I would have accepted any explanation. I suddenly have a wave of regret flowing over me as I leave the building. I'm sure that will dissipate when I see Scott's byline on the front page tomorrow.


	5. Chapter 5

I head to the morgue with my tail somewhere between my legs. I need advice on what Lindsay was thinking, although Claire wouldn't reveal it. She was no gossip (unlike Jill) but she would tell me what to do.

"Hey."

"Here she is. Wasn't sure if I'd see you again today."

"Yeah well…"

"You ok?"

"I'm fine. Just got a little worked up."

"A girl is entitled to at least one of those a week."

"Thanks. So…anything new?"

"Not really…but then you're not here to ask about the case are you?"

"Am I that transparent?"

You shake your head 'no' and smile.

"Did she…" I stop mid-sentence knowing that you're not going to tell me anyways. "What do I do?"

"Give it some time."

"I kind of yelled…a bit." You raise an eyebrow. "But you already know that, no doubt."

"She'll settle down. Just give it some time."

You smiled and gave me a hug.

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

I left quickly…hoping to escape being seen. The morgue tends to be a gathering place for the club, as morbid as that sounds. I guess it's because no one else really would want to hang around there.

**FROM Lindsay's POINT OF VIEW**

I make my way down to the morgue…I need advice without asking for it and Claire is great at that. I pause in the end of the corridor as I see you taking the basement exit. I wait until you're out of the building before I continue so as to avoid an awkward hallway meeting.

"Hey."

"Well aren't I popular today."

"Yeah…what was that about?"

"Nothing."

"Well…is she ok?" I ask condescendingly, attempting to mask my actual concern.

"Ask me again with a little less attitude."

"Claire?" I was genuinely asking now. You looked up at me from your microscope.

"She's ok. She's…fine."

"Seriously?"

"She's hurt. It'll pass. Give her some time…give yourself some time to cool off."

"I am perfectly cooled. A balmy 70 degrees."

I turn away and stare out the of the glass window for a moment…feeling a little exposed that you know more than I would like you to. Mainly because I'm even unsure of what I know. I turn back.

"Have you got anything new for me?"

"Anything new from a half an hour ago? No."

"Right. Ok then."

I turn to leave but you catch me at the door with your words.

"Lindsay…whatever you've got going on there you better be careful. She's in more than she realizes."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying don't break her heart."

I'm continually amazed at how Claire can read people. All people. She picks up on things…she notices. I guess it's because she listens.


	6. Chapter 6

I'm sitting at home watching Letterman. It isn't funny…maybe I'm just not in the mood. I flick through the channels and find there is nothing else on so Letterman will have to do. The 'text message received' tone goes off on my phone and I get up to find it.

It's from you. "You up?"

I consider not texting back but I'm not going to play those games. I respond. "Yeah."

There is a knock at my door. I get up and pull on an old University of Michigan hoodie over my PJ singlet. I open the door only to find you leaning against my porch, looking as sexy as ever.

"Hey." The sound of your voice makes my skin tingle.

"Hi."

I can sense that you don't want to have a long discussion, or any for that matter, about today.

"Did you want to come in?"

"Sure."

I open the door wider and you walk on through. I close it and lock it behind you.

"Did you want a coffee or a beer or anything?"

"A beer would be great actually."

I get two out of the fridge…although I didn't really feel like it. Back in the lounge room I hand on to you. Our hands touch gently and my eyes quickly dart up to yours. The beers are quickly discarded as our bodies come together. You wrap your arms around me and kiss me passionately. And there is nothing so sweet as the touch of your skin on mine. Your teeth graze my lips as your tongue delves deep into my mouth.

We make our way towards the bedroom but you have plans of your own. You pull me towards the bathroom.

"Shower," is the only word you can muster. I think it was the last spoken word that evening.


	7. Chapter 7

I headed over to the precinct as you had left a message asking me to meet you. There was a buzz about the station, extra officers in plain clothes and people scurrying about. I spotted you carrying a rather large weapon and talking with Jill.

"Judge Anderson issued warrants to cover entry and surveillance."

"I didn't think we'd need warrants to save two people's lives right?"

"Which is why you carry the gun and I see the judge. Good luck."

Jill quickly nodded hello and then left.

"Hey. I got your message. What's up?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Russo."

The sincerity in your voice tells me that you really are sorry, and when you look at me with those eyes it's all I can do not to forgive you.

"It's ok."

You smile at me and I'm glad things are back to normal between us. Whatever normal is.

"What's with the body amour? Frankly it's a little bulky on you."

"We got two hostages and we're gonna go get them and it's your exclusive if you wanna watch."

"Wait, if you're doing this because you feel guilty, I wanna say "awesome!"

Tom interrupts, "Lindsay she signs a liability release, get it before she leaves."

You roll your eyes at him. Perhaps it's because he was telling you what to do, perhaps it's because it was Tom. I wasn't sure…I do know that I am now holding a bullet-proof vest and being ushered out to waiting cars.

"Suddenly this feels very serious."


	8. Chapter 8

_This was a difficult chapter to put together because there are many other characters. Oh, and can you tell I don't speak Spanish?_

I headed over to the station as per your message asking me to meet you in '5 minutes'. I was a little out of breath because I had run in case it was an emergency. There was a buzz about the station, extra officers in plain clothes and people scurrying about. I spotted you carrying a rather large weapon and talking with Jill.

"Judge Anderson issued warrants to cover entry and surveillance."

"I didn't think we'd need warrants to save two people's lives right?"

"Which is why you carry the gun and I see the judge. Good luck."

Jill quickly nodded hello and then left. I wondered if she thought I was still mad. I wonder if you told her I had flipped out. Probably not.

"Hey. I got your message. What's up?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Russo."

The sincerity in your voice tells me that you really are sorry, and when you look at me with those eyes it's all I can do not to forgive you.

"It's ok."

You smile at me and I'm glad things are back to normal between us. Whatever normal is. I'm hoping that there is more you want to tell me seeing I almost pulled a muscle getting over here.

"What's with the body amour? Frankly it's a little bulky on you."

"We got two hostages and we're gonna go get them and it's your exclusive if you wanna watch."

I knew if I hung around enough you would let me ride along - I don't even care that it's some kind of redemption offering!

"If you're doing this because you feel guilty, I wanna say "awesome!"

Tom interrupts, "Lindsay she signs a liability release, get it before she leaves."

You roll your eyes at him, perhaps because he was telling you what to do, perhaps because it was Tom. I'm not sure…I do know that I'm now holding a bullet-proof vest and following you out to waiting cars.

"Suddenly this feels very serious."

Jacobi, Tom and the Tactical Ops (TO) team head off in an unmarked truck. I'm driving separately with you in your squad car and another squad car is following us. You are quiet, listening to the radio and trying to navigate through traffic. I try to contain my excitement and not act like a little kid on Christmas morning. I can't help a small smile appearing on my face as I watch you out of the corner of my eye. After all, this was incredibly exciting.

Once in suburbia you turn off the lights and siren. We pull up around the block and walk quickly to where the disguised TO truck has pulled up.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. Don't say anything. Don't touch anything. Stay out of the way and most importantly stay in the truck."

"Right."

"Let the TO guys do their thing. Don't ask questions and don't interrupt."

"Got it."

"Just listen. And do what you're told."

"There are a lot of rules."

You paused. "Don't make me regret this."

"Quiet as a mouse. Do what you have to do."

You open the door to the truck and point towards a corner where I assume you wanted me to stay. Tom and Jacobi are standing with another guy who I recognize from the station. He is the Tactical Ops Commander (TOC). There is a man and a women sitting in front of monitors with headphones on trying to get a picture of what is going on inside the house.

"Can we see the house at all?" You ask, mind focused on the task ahead.

"They've got every front window covered. We might be able to see something from the back," the woman responds without turning away from the screen.

"Anything from parabolics?"

"Still positioning. We should have views inside in a minute," says the man sitting at the desk.

"Heat sensors up," the woman says, somewhat relieved.

"That must be two of Ramos's men," says the TOC.

"Where are the hostages?" Jacobi asks.

"Macarthy's wife…son on the floor. That's a water heater below them." You point them out on the monitor.

I begin to get very worried. It just occurred to me that this family could be killed shortly and I may have to witness it via a heat sensor monitor.

"We gotta get them out of that room. We go in when he's there he'll kill them all," Tom states plainly.

"I don't know how we do th…" the TOC starts, looking concerned.

Suddenly the tech guy cuts in, "Got something on the horn. One of them is making a cell call. Whoever he's talking to says McCarthy hasn't checked in. The guy in the house wants to know whether it's time to shut it down. The caller thinks yes but has to confirm. Says he'll call back with an answer in 5 minutes."

You look straight to Jacobi. "They're gonna kill that woman and her child."

The TOC has formed a plan. "We create a diversion at the front, draw the second guy into the living room. We go in."

"I'll go." Not a heartbeat had passed and you were offering yourself for the task.

"No they will make you as a cop and kill those people before you can ring the doorbell," Tom says, over protectively.

I agree with him - for once Tom makes a good point. I don't want you going anywhere near that house. I consider offering this information but remember the rules and stay quiet for fear of the death stare I would receive from you.

"And they won't make you? You've got 'cop' tattooed on your forehead." You make an even better point.

The TOC comes between the both of you. "Alright, alright. We need someone else. Call the Bureau."

"We can't get anybody here in five minute," Jacobi points out.

"I can do it." The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.

You whip around and give me that death stare I was imaging only seconds ago. "Forget it."

"You need someone who's not a cop. That's me. And I speak Spanish."

"I said forget it." You discard my offer of assistance, even though it makes sense. I hope it's because you are worried about me…but I'm pretty sure it's because you're worried I'll stuff the op up.

"You're a civilian. It's out of the question." Tom tells me.

I have to persist. "Narcotics used civilians in a string of busts late last year."

"Those were for dime bag busts not hostage situations." Tom makes a valid point. People's lives are at risk here.

"Lieutenant, they're moving the woman and child," the woman says.

"You have to let me do it." I speak directly to you, knowing that it's the only option but still needing your approval. "Tell me how." You look at Tom, and then back to me, and then to Tom again. You're trying to think up an excuse but the truth is that if we don't do this now, the child and his mother are dead.

"Ok," you finally give in.

The TOC comes over to me. "This is what we need you to do. Walk straight up to the door and knock. When he answers tell them your Aunt lives down the street and has left a spare set of keys at their place. They'll try to get rid of you. We need both guys in the front of the house. So try and retain their attention for as along as possible. Do you think you can do that?"

I nod, trying to look confident but already feeling the sweat collecting in my palms.

"Ok…let's do this."

You take a hold of my arm and lead me out of truck.

"You know when we start to make our move, right, you'll see us coming in. The moment that you do, drop to the ground! Don't run, don't move left or right, okay. Just pancake on the ground!"

"Pancake, got it!"

"Scared?"

"Terrified." Understatement.

"Good."

I walk a few more steps before you grab my elbow and pull me back towards you.

"Look…whatever happens. Trust your gut, if you need to bail out then bail out."

"Ok."

"If it doesn't feel right, walk away. Whatever you do, don't go inside. Stay on the porch. If you go inside, I can't protect you."

"Are you concerned for me Inspector Boxer?" I ask, showing a little smile.

You paused, staring deep into my eyes. This probably wasn't the best time for sarcasm – but I was terrified and sarcasm is my natural reflex.

"Don't try anything heroic. You don't have to save the day just…"

"…pancake." I nodded. "I'll see you on the other side."

As I turned away, I let my hand slide down your forearm until it grasped your hand. You gave it a quick squeeze and suddenly I was out in the open, exposed and on my own…desperately wanting not to screw this up.

As I walk, I can see guys in plain clothes approaching from the left and right. The door is suddenly in front of me. There is a guy to the side holding a gun aimed directly at the door. I take a deep breath before knocking. No answer. I knock again. The door slowly opens and a man looks at me through the opening.

"Hi. My name is Cindy. Miss Segal down the street is my Aunt. She said that you had keys to her house."

"No inglés."

He tries to close the door but I push it open.

"Oh, I see, I see."

"Me llamo Cindy. Señorita Segal abajo la calle es mi Tía. Ella dijo que usted tenía llaves a su casa."

The guy responds saying that I must be mistaken and that he has no keys. He again tries to close the door but I have to get the other guy to come forward.

"Ella deja un juego de repuesto cuando ella se marcha." I tell the guy that she leaves a spare set of keys here when she goes away.

Finally the second man walks over. "What is the problem?"

I have a total brain freeze. Is this when I'm supposed to pancake? Are you making your move? What do I do?

Suddenly I hear a huge crash, the sound of glass shattering and I drop to the floor. I can hear people shouting and running around and I keep my eyes firmly shut with my hands over my head.

The noise dies down quite quickly.

"I'm a pancake, I'm a pancake, I'm a pancake," I'm muttering to myself over and over.

I feel your hand on my arm…I know that touch very well, it's unmistakable. I look up and see you smiling down at me. You offer your hand to help me up.

"Hey. Nice job pancake. You alright?"

I'm breathing heavily, the adrenaline still rushing through my body.

"Yeah, fine," I quip, like I do this every day.

"Nice job." You put your arm around me, which calms my nerves.

Tom comes over and shakes my hand.

"Thanks. You did a great job. You've, ah, got a lot of guts."

"Happy to help."

You lean in close and whisper in my ear, "I'm proud of you." I don't think I've ever heard such sweet words. "Why don't you head out to the car? I'll finish up here and drive you back to the station."

"Ok."

My hands are shaking and my heart is beating fast. I slide into the passengers seat, lean my head on the headrest and close my eyes. A single tear escapes and falls down my cheek.


	9. Chapter 9

Another day, another case solved which means it was time to celebrate at the diner. I looked forward to these get-togethers more than I would like knowing that they were still a novelty for me, but old news to the rest of you. I meet Jill and Claire at the station and they are distracted by something below. I walk closer.

"Hey what's goi…" I started to say.

"Shhhhhh!" Jill promptly shushes me.

I saw you standing on the stairs arguing with an older man.

"I'm here to warn you not to make the same mistake I did!" He says.

"I won't be taking paperbacks full of fifty's from Dominic Bucci if that's what you're asking." You sound angry.

"Who is that?" I whisper.

"Lindsay's father," Claire answers.

"_Estranged_ father," Jill adds.

"Oh." All of a sudden I didn't feel comfortable eavesdropping on this conversation anymore, but a part of me wants to know you past…wants to know all about you.

"Is that what you think I did?" Lindsay's dad asks in disbelief.

"That's what the courts say you did." You fold your arms across your chest. Your best defensive move - it could rattle the most convincing of arguments.

"If a case like this teaches you anything, it's that things aren't always what they appear." He looks remorseful and yet still upset. You tilt your head wanting…waiting for a better explanation or excuse. "I'm still your father like it or not. See you round Lindsay."

He walks away and we quickly move away from the handrail and try to pretend that we hadn't witness the scene.

"Hey," Claire says acknowledging your presence.

"Hey. How much did you hear?" You ask, hoping that you don't have to explain the situation to us.

"Didn't hear a thing," Claire responds. Of course you don't believe her, but her answer lets you know that we will be here for you when you are ready to re-tell the story. You look grateful.

"We've been collectively considering the question as to why an eligible man wouldn't ask a smart, funny, strong, beautiful woman for her phone number," Jill chimes in, hoping to change the subject.

"I had nothing to do with this," Claire quips quietly.

"And?" You have to ask.

"It's the gun," I say, sarcastically. It was a good off-the-cuff answer I think.

"The gun?" You ask slightly confused.

"You scared him off," Jill explains.

"I wasn't carrying a gun." Hmmm…an interesting twist to our logic.

"Oh but he could sense the gun," I add, hoping to convince you otherwise.

"Yeah. Face it Linds, some people are always carrying their gun even when they're not." You've got to hand it to Jill for making this bogus excuse sound plausible.

Personally I'm glad that he didn't…but I would have like to have know what you would have done if he had. Would you have accepted it? Called him up? Gone out on a date? I mean, we weren't exclusively seeing each other but…I wish I knew. I can feel my heart getting involved even though my head is telling it not too. I wish you would tell me what I am to you.

"So…dinner?" I ask, hopeful that you will forget all about Mr. Mystery. Food is always a good distraction for you.

"Ah…I can't tonight ladies I'm sorry," Jill apologizes.

"Who is it this time?" Lindsay asks dryly.

"Brett…someone-or-another. He's cute, he's tall, he's smart…"

"Will we ever see you again?!" You ask sarcastically, cutting her off.

"You'll see me tomorrow." Jill says, as she heads down the stairs.

"And unfortunately I'm going to have to rain check too," says Claire. "It's Ed's mother's birthday so we're having dinner at home."

"Oh," I say, watching Claire walk away and realizing that it could just be the two of us. "I guess it's just you and me." I hope that you're as excited about that as I am.

You look at me for what seems like a long time and I can't tell what you're thinking. You look like you are going to say something important or significant but can't find the words. I want to ask you out…like on a date out…but I'm too scared. I wonder if part of the reason that you like me is because I haven't pursued a relationship with you.

"I have something I have to do. Can I call you later?"

"Sure," I nod, trying to hide my disappointment. That definitely felt like a blow-off.

"Thanks," you disappear down the corridor. Half of me thinks that you genuinely have something to do, perhaps with your father or with work. The other half thinks that I've done my dash and you're over it. Either way I'm left standing there alone in the station and it doesn't feel so great.


	10. Chapter 10

**FROM LINDSAYS POINT OF VIEW**

I made my way through the office building to the 6th floor. I walk past each door until I find one with Pete's name on it. The building was empty except the cleaners. I'm not sure why I was nervous, perhaps because I never do this, but curiosity had gotten the better of me and for some reason I felt the need to keep my options open. Things with you were, well, things with you. I didn't know how you felt, and more importantly, I didn't know how I felt. I felt that you understood me and that you cared and I know that I cared…but what would happen when I inevitably screwed it up? I didn't want to hurt you. A relationship plus work surely had to equal bad news.

I find Pete still at work, pouring over some sort of blueprints. I cough a little to get his attention.

"Lindsay Boxer." He looks a little taken aback to see me.

I decide to get straight to the point. "I have a question for you."

"Me first! How'd you find me?" Pete asks, slightly surprised to see me in his office.

"I'm a detective."

"Yeah I heard. The kid at the coffee cart."

"I told him not to say anything." Damn kid…I wonder what else he said.

"You're question."

"Right. My question is, why does a man have a nice conversation with a woman that he thinks is pretty and then doesn't ask for her number?"

"Maybe the man thought about asking for her number."

"Oh, how hard did he think about asking?" I smile at the thought of him finding me attractive.

"It occupied his whole afternoon. Including a number of calls to his friends for advice. But then he remembered that he's only in town for two weeks."

"Where are you going?"

"Cambodia. I build hotels. I'm there for a year."

"So you're thinking in two weeks I'll get attached, and then you'll break my heart!"

"No Lindsay. I'm thinking two weeks and leaving might break mine. Still, I was about to come find you. Are you a good detective?"

"Well I'm better at my job than I am at this."

"Well then, detective, who are those flowers for?"

I notice the flowers lying on the table.

"I...I don't have enough information."

He hands me a card and I read it out loud, "To Lindsay."

"Want to get something to eat?"

I pause to think about his question quickly trying to do the math in my head. I could go out with Pete which would hurt your feelings then Pete would leave and I would be alone again…just me and Martha (this isn't _such_ a bad thing). Or was I just trying to run away for the sake of running away? Maybe I had a default setting to ruin anything good that was going on in my life. Was it possible that you and I might actually work?

"Um you know what Pete? I can't. I'm so sorry. Unfortunately you are right. I uh…I do tend to be a heart breaker. I'm not good with relationships. But I owe it to myself to try. So…I'm going to have to decline your very generous offer. Thank you for, ah, answering my question."

I back out of Pete's office, a smile coming across my face. I think I had just made my decision.

--

N.B: Ok, so I was torn here. Obviously I don't like Pete, however I don't know whether to follow the show somewhat and turn this into some angsty little piece where Lindsay hooks up with Pete but still loves Cindy and can't chose and well, it'll play out how it plays out...obviously Pete is around for a little bit...let me know...if you want the happy cheesy ending keep on moving to the last chapter...


	11. Chapter 11

I had headed back to the office, not that I had work to do – but I thought I may as well catch up on some loose ends. It was simple an excuse no to go home and go to bed early…alone. Besides, I liked the office at night…it was quiet and I could think.

I found myself chewing on the end of my pen and staring at an old feature I had written about a case you solved. It included a picture of you and Jacobi at the crime scene. You were wearing that favourite leather jacket and an old pair of jeans…I was lost in it for a moment. I wondered how your hair always looked so great…even when you've been up all night. I wondered what you're family was like and what kind of impact your dad's situation had had. I wondered if deep down you still blamed yourself for losing Tom even though you didn't want him back. I wondered if you would ever trust me enough not to break your heart.

I sighed, knowing that I might never find out the answers. I pushed some papers around, trying to focus on doing anything else but daydream about you when my phone started to ring. I fished around in my bag for it and felt the butterflies head straight for my stomach when I saw it was you calling.

"Lindsay?"

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"I, uh, was wondering if you're still up for dinner?"

"You know me." _Always hungry_.

"That's what I thought."

"Where are you?"

"I'm standing outside your building."

"What?" I rushed over to the window and saw you standing on the street below, holding a bunch of flowers. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"Hunch."

"Who are the flowers from?" I desperately hoped they were for me, but I wasn't going to assume…that would have been embarrassing. Although it is very uncharacteristic of you to wander the streets of San Francisco carrying a bunch of flowers.

"Why don't you come down and read the card?" My heart skipped about 10 beats and I could see the smile coming across your face. Was this really happening? I was almost certain I was still daydreaming.

"Is this dinner then…like dinner as a date?" It had to be asked, I couldn't wait anymore. I had to know how you felt.

You paused for a moment. "If you want it to be." Your voice sounded a little shaky and I could tell you were putting yourself out there.

"Yeah, I want it to be." I breathed a sigh a relief and smiled down at you.

"Then hurry up and get your ass down here, it's freezing outside!"

I quickly hung the phone up and grabbed by satchel and headed towards the lift. I fixed my hair in the mirrored walls and quickly applied some lip-gloss…it was the best I could do. I had to stop myself from running outside and into your arms but I knew my heart had already beaten me there. Instead I tried to act cool, calm and collected by grinning from ear to ear inside and out. The cold air hit my face but I barely noticed…this was cloud 9 and I was riding high.

"Hey."

"Hello."

"Ok, so I kind of don't have a card…but these are for you."

"You bought me flowers? I can't believe you bought me flowers."

"Yeah well…"

"Thank you."

"Your welcome."

You smiled, and it was genuine, you weren't nervous or hesitant. We took a moment to take it all in. Words and reasoning and rules would no doubt be talked about later. For now, this was just about us.

"So Lindsay Boxer…where are you taking me for dinner?"

"Anywhere you want to go."


End file.
